Out of Reach
by Juze
Summary: Morgana still remembers the young boy with the sad eyes she met when she was younger She knew there was something different about him, but had no way of knowing how closely their lives would become entwined.


**Prologue - 10 years ago**

The chickens scattered noisily clearing out of the way in the presence of larger hoofed animals. Morgana looked around at the small village with disdain, grateful to be raised up from the dusty road as her horse plodded along. Her dainty shoes would surely be ruined had she been walking. Her dress would likely be damaged as well, the puffs of dust lightly accumulating with every step until there was no longer any possibility of becoming clean again. All around her was evidence of the slatternly mindset of the inhabitants. The small houses with brooms leaning unused against the walls, clothes draped over ropes tied between trees, toddlers running unsupervised, their shrieks rising alongside the voices of numberless animals, adding to the chaos all around. How could they live like this?

Ahead of her rode her father. Gorlois seemed unperturbed by the sight in front of him. Rather, he looked calm, at peace. In his eyes were acceptance, not pity. Looking straight ahead, he seemed to know exactly where he was going. While the villagers looked up in respect and deference, he nodded politely, acknowledging without engaging. Finally, he reigned in to a stop in front of the largest house. To Morgana, it was still woefully unimpressive, yet it clearly signified that the person living inside was respected, important.

Gorlois was lifting Morgana down, much to her displeasure, when the door opened. Out stepped a man about the same age as her father, his body tall and strong after a lifetime of menial labor.

"My lord," he greeted with a bow.

"Aethan, my friend. It is good to see you again." Gorlois set Morgana down and embraced the man, clapping him on the back as a smile spread across his face. "I would like you to meet my daughter, Morgana." He turned towards her, gesturing for the unwilling girl to step forward. Pasting a smile on her face, she dipped into a light curtsy, glad for a reason to lift her skirts off the dirt.

"She is as lovely as her mother," Aethan smiled and politely nodded his head before turning back to her father. Ushering them inside, she was surprised to note that it seemed quite clean inside. There was no dirt on the stone floor, and everything seemed tidy, if sparse. Bored, she let her eyes wander the room while the men talked. Finding nothing to hold her interest, she began humming to herself, trying to remember a song that she had heard from a passing troubadour several months before. Eventually, her humming was noticed, and her father suggested that she explore outside. She resisted, until it became clear that the suggestion was more of a command, and she found herself once again outside.

With a sigh, Morgana looked around, hoping for something to occupy herself with. Aimlessly, she walked toward some trees, until the sound of voices drew her attention. Topping the small knoll, she saw the village children gathered together, playing Blind Man's Bluff. Laughter swelled in the air, mingling with the light breeze. A smile crept over her face. A boy had just caught his next victim when she came striding towards them. Slowly, the laughter stopped as they realized she was a new person.

"Can I play too?" She asked merely out of politeness, but was nonetheless pleased to see the faces once again break into smiles. Without another word, the new blind man tied the cloth over his eyes to start a new round. Morgana joined in the laughter, delighted at the lurching steps and fruitless grabs the boy made as he sought a fresh victim. She darted out of the way with the graceful steps and leaps she had been taught in her dance lessons, thrilled at the newfound freedom of using them in whatever way she wanted.

At one point, she became so caught up in the steps that she forgot the object, until he crashed into her, his arms grappling at her waist. Laughing, he pushed the blindfold up, brown eyes gleaming mischievously.

"Now you have to give me a kiss," he grinned.

"No I don't," she rebutted, nonetheless smiling at the boy's cheekiness.

"Yes you do," the boy insisted. "I caught you."

"You didn't kiss the other boy when he caught you."

"That's 'cause he's a boy, and boys don't kiss boys."

"Well that's not fair. If he doesn't get a kiss then neither do you!" She grabbed the blindfold and spun away, ready to start a fresh turn.

It was a strange thing to lose the sense of sight. She reached at shadows, grabbed at voices, followed movement. It was as thought her world expanded and contracted at the same time. Her senses reached out further as she drew within herself.

At last, her fingers found something solid. The course fabric scratched her fingers as she gripped it, making sure it didn't fly away. Pushing off the blindfold, she looked at her prey. Blue eyes looked back at her out of a pale face.

"Caught you!" She crowed, proud of her conquest.

The boy smiled back, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm not playing."

She frowned. "But I caught you."

He shook his head and ambled away as the other children surrounded her. With one last look, she turned away from him, returning to her game, but it seemed as though the day had gotten a little darker, the joy a little dimmer.

It was hours later that she returned to Aethan's home. The sun was just setting and all the children were rushing home to do their chores before dinner. Not having any chores gave Morgana plenty of time to ponder the strange boy she'd met. Her new playmates had afterward called him weird, giving her the distinct impression that he was not welcomed. She wondered who he did play with.

Her father and Aethan were still talking when she entered. It seemed all adults ever did was talk. It was so boring. She heard snippets of Camelot and an upcoming war and the village's safety, but she didn't care about any of it.

Finally, as her father tucked her in to sleep, he asked her if she had had fun during the day. She told him about the game and the boy, wondering aloud why he had been ostracized.

"Sometimes, people fear what they don't understand," was his patient reply.

"But what don't they understand? He's just a boy."

"No one is 'just' anything, and some people are different from others."

"I'm different, but they played with me."

Her father merely kissed her head and told her to get some sleep. They had a long trip ahead the next morning to see his friend, Uther, the king of Camelot. It was his hope that she would find a new playmate there, Uther's son, Arthur. One day, they would be married, uniting their families, and he hoped that she would grow to love him. Morgana hoped so too, but as she closed her eyes, it was the boy with the sad face and slumped shoulders who filled her thoughts.

* * *

Merlin walked away from the sounds of laughter, his shoulders hunched against the cold rejection. Why had he walked over there? At first, it was just simple curiosity, but as he saw the girl with the pretty dress dancing and skipping amongst those with plain clothes, he wanted to get closer, to see her better. Her uninhibited laughter curved his face into a smile without his realizing it. He was so caught up in his fascination that he didn't notice how close he was until she suddenly reached out and grabbed him.

"Caught you!" she had declared, triumphant in her victory.

Behind her, the other children froze, staring coldly at him with no traces of their former humor. Some eyes widened in fear, others narrowed in threat. He smiled sadly. They would never stop, never forgive, and he didn't want her to become an outcast like him. Like Will.

"I'm not playing."

"But I caught you." Her plaintive cry was almost enough to convince him to stay. Almost. If Brayden hadn't begun stepping menacingly closer, he might have stayed. But he had.

Hands slightly raised in surrender he backed away, finally turning his back on the brightest sunshine he'd ever seen embodied. Walking away seemed to make the day grow darker, the wind a bit colder.

Will found him later, leaning against a tree.

"What's crawled up your nose?" he greeted.

Merlin glared up at him. "Probably whatever bug you've got creeping around in your hair. Didn't your mom ever tell you to not sleep on dung piles? They're crawling with maggots."

"You would know, since you eat them all the time, dung breath."

Merlin smiled. Will had a way of making him feel normal, as if he didn't have to hide who he was.

"Did you see the new girl in town?" he changed the subject.

"You mean the pretty one that no one will shut up about? No, my dad made me go to the fields today. Why? You see her?"

Merlin smiled shyly. "She was as pretty as an angel."

"Rich people usually are," Will pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess." Merlin suddenly wanted to change the subject, wanted to think about something other than the girl who was so out of reach. "I saw her dad going to Aethan's house."

"Probably telling him to send more food. My dad says Camelot is declaring war, and they're going to take our food to feed the soldiers."

"It's not fair! What will we eat this winter?"

"Think of it this way, Merlin: at least you can't get any skinnier!"

Merlin took a swipe at him as Will as he danced away, their conversation devolving into a wrestling match. By the time Merlin went home, he was dirty and scraped, but once again happy and playful. His mother took one look at him and shook her head before sending him to get cleaned up. She had given him the afternoon off, but he still had chores to do before dinner.

Hunith wondered sometimes if she was doing the right thing, keeping him here. It was so obvious that he was made for something more, something bigger, grander. Yet her motherly instincts couldn't help wanting to hold him close, keep him hidden from Uther and his mindless rage. The whole country had grieved with him at Ygraine's death, and she had to hope that time would dull the edge of his pain. One day, he would remember that magic was not an evil, nor were all who practiced it. One day, he would remember that he was king to all of Camelot's inhabitants, not just those of noble birth. One day, he would again be the man adored by his wife and countryman. One day.

* * *

Merlin saw the girl again just one more time as she was leaving. She was in another pretty dress, but the smile was absent as she stared morosely ahead. Pausing from his chore of hanging up laundry, he silently willed her to look at him. To his surprise, she did. Her eyes widened slightly in recognition before a shy smile crept across her lips. He found his face mirroring hers as they stared at each other. After a few moments, she broke the connection to look ahead once more as the girl who was out of his reach rode beyond his grasp.


End file.
